4d • General discussion
Sherri's Smile
Sherri loved
with everything she had.
No filters.
No fear of being too much.
She loved the way children love—
all in,
right now,
with no thought for later
or what it might cost.
And wherever she went,
her smile arrived first.
In Monroe City, Missouri,
that smile became familiar—
not famous, exactly,
but known.
Expected.
Missed when it wasn’t there.
Most mornings she rode her tricycle
to the workshop,
pedaling steady,
slowing down for waves,
for names,
for anyone who needed
to be seen that day.
That smile made sure
no one was invisible.
On Friday nights,
it glowed under stadium lights.
High-school football was sacred—
every snap mattered,
every cheer came from a place
that only knew how to believe.
She found love too.
A boyfriend.
The man of her dreams.
They talked football,
laughed easy,
stood side by side—
proof that joy doesn’t ask permission
or explanations.
Some nights,
she’d ride down to the beer joint—
that’s what she called it—
and take the mic for karaoke.
No nerves.
No shame.
Just her voice,
that smile,
and a room better
for having heard it.
The hardest love
was watching her say goodbye
to her mother.
We drove her to see Grandma
one last time up in Iowa.
At first, she didn’t understand.
Then she did.
And when it hit her,
it hit all at once—
pure, unguarded, devastating.
Like watching a child realize
the world had changed forever.
After Grandma was gone,
I worried about Sherri.
I didn’t know
how she would carry on.
Didn’t realize
she wasn’t alone at all.
What I didn’t see then
was a whole town
quietly taking care of her—
watching for her tricycle,
saving her seat,
cheering a little louder
because she was there.
When time grew short,
we chose joy.
We went to Branson.
One last hurrah.
Fall at Silver Dollar City—
cool air,
hills that tested tired legs,
lights glowing after dark
like the world itself
was showing up for her.
She was sick.
She was cold.
My brother and I took turns
pushing her wheelchair
up and down those hills—
and never once complained.
Because that smile never left.
Not for a second.
It said, I’m happy.
It said, This is enough.
It said, I have been loved.
And when she passed,
the worry gave way to comfort.
Because I know—
when Sherri reached the pearly gates,
her mother was there.
And her big brother Larry.
Right where they should be.
Waiting.
I imagine her smile
before she ever said a word.
Running to them.
Whole again.
Safe again.
Some people leave behind things.
Sherri left behind a feeling.
A town that felt quieter.
A road that missed
three steady wheels.
A lot of people
who learned what love looks like
when it doesn’t hold anything back.
Sherri didn’t conquer the world.
She softened it.
3
1 comment
Sherri's Smile
powered by
skool.com/what-we-hand-down-4353
Poetry on fatherhood, grief, faith, and the times we’re living in. Come read, reflect, and feel less alone.
Suggested communities
Powered by